


A New Wind Rises

by heroWHO



Category: Naruto
Genre: Character Development, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Namikaze sibling, Reincarnation, Slow Build, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:09:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroWHO/pseuds/heroWHO
Summary: Souls are slippery things, spanning time and space and bodies. At the end of the Second Shinobi War, two reincarnations are born. Meanwhile, maybe there's more than one way to end a war.(When there's blood on your hands, the journey to the Pure Land doesn't go easy. Obito and Madara take a detour.)





	1. nothing as easy as bleeding

The day Nowaki was born, Konoha’s streets had been a mess of wet pavement and uprooted trees. Indoors, his parents had marvelled over his soft cheeks and blue eyes, and Minato had, in a rare show of impatience, begged to hold him. “Be careful with your baby brother, Minato,” his mother had warned before handing him the soft bundle of blankets.

Nowaki knows his mother's exact words because he remembers exactly what happened that day. In fact, he’s remembered every moment of every day he’s lived. Sometimes, he doesn’t know what certain words or things mean until later, but he remembers every sensation of every moment: the sound of his mother’s voice the first time he heard it, the feeling of Minato’s fingers on his cheek.

It’s unnatural. Biologically impossible. He knows this all too well. And Nowaki hates it. It feels like he doesn’t belong, like there’s some giant piece of the puzzle everyone’s missing or keeping from him. At playdates with other toddlers, he realizes he cries too little and comprehends too much. He puts together words, matches sounds to Kanji characters, and is flipping through books while the twins Renji and Shinji from next door are fighting over toys.

He tries looking for answers in Konoha Library, to figure out why he feels like an adult in a child’s body sometimes. But he doesn’t find anything. And Nowaki’s too afraid to ask someone. To tell his parents or his brother that he thinks something’s wrong with him, that maybe he’s someone else besides Namikaze Nowaki. They’d think he’s crazy. And Nowaki doesn’t know how that would help at all.

So he keeps on pretending to be a child.

He’s lucky that children always grow up more quickly during a war.

***

Nowaki enrolls in the Academy at the age of 4. He learns that the feel of a kunai in his hand isn’t foreign to him, and the sensei laud him as a genius like his brother. Chakra surges through him in supple, fluid lines, and his hands fall naturally into seals all on their own. Somehow, this child’s body has inherited more memories than he has.

It ends badly, however, a few months after his enrollment, during a spar with a boy four years older. Who’s this scrawny little kid? His face says it all.

“You’ll die the first day you step onto the field,” he smirks. “Konoha doesn’t need useless people like you.”

Nowaki isn’t the type to get mad. He’s never fallen into the heat of tantrums.

The boy lunges forward. He’s quick for his size, but Nowaki is much smaller and just as fast if not faster. He flits back and forth, dodging his swings, leaping over kicks, and waits for a chance.

There. Nowaki finds his opening and takes it. Left duck. Grab arm. Sweep feet. Bend arm. The boy’s eyes widen. He wasn’t expecting it to end this way, obviously. The boy’s arm is in his grip, and a voice enters his head. _Break it._ And out of curiosity, he does. The boy screams. For a second, Nowaki suddenly wonders how loud the boy can scream.

Then he takes the arm and twists.


	2. through the mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories begin to surface.

_One Year Later_

“Hey, Namikaze!”

Towing a wagonful of library books behind him, Nowaki pressed on at a steady, walking pace, too deep in thought to spare a glance at the ragtag group of boys looking for trouble.

“Oi! Namikaze!” Another voice gave a go at trying to catch his attention, inciting the same lack of response as the first. “...what the hell is wrong with him?”

“Maybe he’s deaf? No wonder he dropped out of the Ninja Academy.” A third kid snickered.

It was already well into the evening, and there would be roughly another hour and a half’s worth of sunlight, Nowaki estimated. That was enough time for him to get to his reading spot at the small pavilion near the lake and get through at least a few chapters of the new book he had finally gotten its hands on.

The author, Yukio Mishima, was one whose works he had only recently discovered. After reading Mishima’s non-fiction piece chronicling the experiences of a young shinobi during the Second Shinobi World War, Nowaki had been hooked. The writing was brutal and unrelenting; its depictions of the frontier captured the consequences of war for both sides. And hidden between the reflections of the traumatized main character was a veiled criticism of the ninja states.

The new book that Nowaki was looking forward to reading was an investigative piece that focused on the causes of the Second Shinobi World War. Rumor was Mishimo had interviewed several anonymous sources ranked highly in the different hidden villages, including Konoha. Nowaki hoped to finish it this week, and then go back again and nitpick at it until he understood it through and through.

Another rock flew towards his head, and Nowaki dodged casually. Were these boys seriously throwing rocks at him? Didn’t they have better things to do?

“If it isn’t obvious...,” Nowaki whipped around, voice quiet and blue eyes sharp. “I would like for you guys to leave me alone.”

“Psh, make us.” A boy Nowaki faintly recognized as Daichi, the neighborhood butcher’s son, shot back. “What can you do? Fight? All you do is read, read, read and read all day.”

“Yeah! Whatcha gonna do?” The boys began to jeer and taunt loudly.

Nowaki’s eyes narrowed. He remembered the accident. With barely half a thought, Nowaki had maimed a boy. It was unnerving how easy violence could be, how thoughtlessly one could ruin another person’s life.

And worse, Nowaki remembered the way Minato and his parents had reacted, eyes in shock and disbelief and a tinge of fear, when the Academy sensei had showed up at their doorstep. He didn’t want them to ever look at him that way again.

The tallest boy stepped forward and gave Nowaki a hard shove.

“Why?” Nowaki asked. “Why are you guys doing this? Trying to hurt someone else?” His hands tightened into fists, fury suddenly manifesting as he became keenly aware of the senselessness of this conflict. “Are you angry? Bored? Are you going to beat me up? Kill me? Throw me in the lake? What if I can’t swim? Are you going to let me drown?”

He stepped toward the boys, and their eyes widened with his words.

“Wh-what are you saying?” Daichi stuttered. “We were just— just.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Nowaki yelled, his voice rising. For the first time in his life, he felt out of control. Words kept flowing, but he didn’t know from where. “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to fight? Cry? Why are you guys trying to hurt me? Why are you trying to hurt people?”

His whole body was shaking uncontrollably with emotion, and Nowaki could feel tears begin to stream down his eyes. “Aren’t there enough people hurting each other in this world? How many people have already lost their parents and brothers and family in the last war?”

Suddenly, as if a dam had broken, Nowaki was flooded with memories of a war. _A mother throwing herself over her child's body. A house set on fire. No crops to eat. The sharpness of hunger._ Faster and faster the memories came. _Children, too young, being sent to die. Brothers being slain and vengeful hearts being born._ He felt as if he was experiencing all the suffering in the world, pain and loss on a scale he couldn’t imagine.

Nowaki fell to his knees, clutching his head in pain in a full-blown sobbing mess; gasping heaves tore from his mouth as he struggled to breathe.

“What did you do, Tetsuya?”

“Nothing. I didn’t even touch him!”

Slowly, his vision began to spot in flashes of technicolor and black. And the memories didn’t stop. Instead, they seemed to grow sharper, clearer. _There was a river. He and his brother were wading in it, cooling off from the summer heat. It was his brother but not Minato,_ he knew. “Look! Onii-chan, look!” _His brother began to turn towards him. Just a bit more, and he could see his face. Just a bit more—_

Another bolt of pain ripped through his head, and Nowaki screamed. It felt as if his head was going to burst. _Stop it. Stop it._ His vision went black.


	3. take a chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nowaki makes a friend or two.

Nowaki woke up with a start only to find himself in a hospital room alone. His heart pumped wildly, chakra coursing through him in erratic waves. Dawn was just breaking and the air was calm, but his whole body was tense with adrenaline.

He felt the need to fight, to go out and bloody a field. And he knew he could. This body could kill, had killed before. Dozens, maybe hundreds.

_What… what was he? Who was he?_

Nowaki pressed his hand to his face and then his chest. It hurt. He still remembered the suffering and pain imbued in that onslaught of memories. To have read about the repercussions of war in Mishima’s book was one thing. To feel it firsthand was another. If that was what war was like, then Nowaki hoped the hidden villages never waged another again.

From the hallway he heard two sets of footsteps. One light. One heavy. The door slid open, and Minato peeked his head in.

“Nowaki. You’re awake.” Minato gave him a weak smile. It looked like he had been worried sick.

Behind him walked in Minato’s jounin-sensei. “Your big brother beat up your bullies, so you don’t have to worry about them,” the man said.

Nowaki looked at Jiraiya. The sannin had fought in the Second Shinobi War. He had no doubt seen war and its casualties up close. _Is it as bad as my memories say it to be?_ Nowaki wanted to find out. _Is it that much suffering and pain?_

“Nowaki?”

Nowaki turned back to his brother and tried to give him a reassuring smile. “I hope you didn’t actually hurt them, Onii-san. They didn’t actually do anything.” He stretched his arms out. “See? Not a scratch.”

“Mom gave Daichi’s dad a scolding. She’s trying to start a boycott of his shop,” Minato sighed, seating himself on his bed. “It might be awhile before we have meat again.”

At that, Nowaki couldn’t help but begin laughing. He could just imagine Okaa-chan heading over to the butcher’s place and making a scene.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Nowaki.” Minato said, staring at him. He hadn’t believed Nowaki was really alright until seeing him burst out in laughter. It was like a weight had been lifted off his chest. He gave his little brother’s hair a slight ruffle and slid off the bed.

“I’m going to go sign you out of the hospital.”

Minato left the room, and it was just Nowaki and Jiraiya.

“Well, let’s pack your things. Minato brought a bag for your books.” Jiraiya pointed at a stack of books on the windowsill.

Whoever had brought him to the hospital must have brought his library books as well, Nowaki thought.

“You’re quite the reader, eh, Nowaki?” Jiraiya began placing books into the bag, one by one. He squinted at the titles, pausing. They seemed far too advanced for a five year old boy.

Nowaki saw the pause. “Oh, they’re not all for me,” he lied smoothly, flashing a gentle smile. “I’m checking most out for Dad and some of his neighborhood friends.”

“Hmm.” Jiraiya grunted, as he kept packing the books. These were all dense, non-fiction works, and while Jiraiya knew Namikaze Akihiro to be a good ninja, yes, a reader he most definitely was not. Was Minato’s brother lying?

“Yukio Mishima, huh? This is his newest work. It must have been difficult to get your hands on this.”

At Jiraiya’s mention of Yukio Mishima, Nowaki’s eyes flickered. “Mm… Ayame-san at the library has a friend. It was a favor because Otou-san really wanted to read it….”

Jiraiya watched Nowaki’s fingers twist themselves into the hospital blanket.

“You’re familiar with Yukio Mishima’s works, Jiraiya-san?” Nowaki gave him a sideways glance that could only be categorized as hopeful.

“Yeah, I’ve been following him for awhile. Have his whole collection and everything.” He answered.

Nowaki’s eyes immediately brightened, and Jiraiya’s suspicions deepened. “Tell your dad to stop by anytime if he wants to borrow anything.”

“Oh… yeah, um, Dad’s been really busy lately, so maybe Minato or I can come pick them up for him.” Nowaki said, sliding off the bed and slipping on shoes.

Yep, there was no way it was Akihiro was the one reading Yukio Mishima. But then who was? Nowaki?

“That’s fine by me.” Jiraiya slid the rest into the bag just as Minato walked back in.

“Ready to go?”

Nowaki nodded, and Jiraiya just slung the bag over his shoulder, eyes still on the five year old boy.

_Looked like Nowaki was just as interesting as his brother._

***

The Academy had repeatedly drilled the Shinobi rules into its students. _A shinobi must always put the mission first. A shinobi must never show their tears. A shinobi must never show any weakness._ To be a shinobi was to kill one’s emotions, Nowaki had learned. A shinobi was a tool for the village, a tool for killing.

One day, Minato would be ordered on a mission to take the lives of civilians and shinobi he had never met. The thought made Nowaki sick.

He didn’t want his brother to kill or be killed. He didn’t want anyone to kill or be killed.

 _Is that what peace is?_ Nowaki thought, stretching his hand outward to the sky. _Will all the shinobi nations be able to attain true peace one day?_

Nowaki knew it was currently a time of peace for Konoha. He had been born a few years after the Second Shinobi World War had ended, and countries were still licking their wounds. There were small skirmishes and flares of tension here and there, but overall, the times were stable for the civilians and shinobi of Konoha.

 _But how long will this peace last?_ Nowaki rolled onto his side. _And what will I do if—when —it ends?_ Was he going to be a shinobi and fight? Fight for Konoha? Nowaki loved Minato, loved Okaa-san and Otou-san. He loved the pavilion he read at, the library he borrowed books from, and the dango shop down the street that Minato bought him sweets from on Sundays. He had grown to love Konoha, and Konoha was his home… but—

—but Nowaki could still remember those memories, the sounds of children crying in the fire, a mother’s weeping and a mother’s sacrifice… Nowaki wanted to protect more than Konoha… He wanted to protect all the children in this world. He wanted everyone to grow up reading in libraries and pavilions like he did, to eat dango on the weekends and catch fireflies on summer nights.

“Nowaki!” His mother’s call snapped him out of his thoughts. “You have a visitor.”

Nowaki got up from his bed. Who would be visiting him? He didn’t have any friends. Ayame-san?

When he got downstairs, his mother was already waiting by the open front door. There on the porch was Daichi and his father, dressed in his white, butcher clothes and ready for work.

“Nowaki, Daichi’s mom and I wanted to apologize for Daichi’s part in your accident. We, and Daichi, were really worried about you, and we’re so glad that you’re okay. We talked to Daichi, and he had something to say to you.” Daichi’s father pushed his son towards the door. Nowaki’s head tilted in curiosity.

“U-uhm… Nowaki… I-” The boy stuttered and looked left and upwards towards the direction of Nowaki’s mother. No doubt she was giving Daichi a death glare hidden under a fake, sweet smile right now.

Nowaki pulled on his mother's hand. “Okaa-san, thanks for letting me know. I’ll listen to what Daichi has to say.” He smiled at his mother, knowing she’d get the message.

“Ok, I’ll go, I’ll go. I needed to call the girls anyways,” She relented before turning to Daichi’s father. She leaned in real closely and gave him a pointed look. “We’re discussing who’s going to supply the meat for the annual BBQ that the Konoha Women’s Association’s hosting. It’s a 200 lb order of meat, and we want to be really, really careful about our supplier.”

As his mother walked away, he could hear Daichi’s father swallow deeply.

“Daichi. You were going to tell me something?”

The boy was taller than him, but he looked overwhelmingly pale and small at the moment. “I… I wanted to apologize, Nowaki… for picking on you the other day.”

“...mm. I see…” Nowaki was quiet for a bit. “Tell me why you did it then.”

“Eh?” Daichi’s head snapped up.

“Why did you do it? I want to know.” Nowaki said, eyes calm as he stared at the fidgeting boy. “Were you bored? Do you dislike me? Whatever the reason, I don’t care. I just want to know.”

“I…” Daichi looked up at his father. “...there’s no special reason. You’re just kind of weird… and annoying.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you’re always by yourself…and you never play with us… and you’re always reading like you’re better or smarter than us.”

“Oh, I see.” Nowaki said. He hadn’t realized that the other boys paid attention to him or what he did. “Then… did you want me to play with you guys?”

“What?! I-... I don’t know. Maybe? Who knows?!” Daichi panicked.

“Well… are you going do something like that to me again?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Then what about to someone else?” Nowaki asked.

“No. Not to anyone.”

“And what if you see someone else bullying someone like that?”

“I… I’ll stop them.” Daichi said resolutely.

“Really?”

“Of course! I’m not a liar.” Daichi yelled. “A real man keeps his word.”

“Ok…” Nowaki paused to think about it. "Let's be friends then."

“W-what?”

“I forgive you. Let’s be friends.” Nowaki flashed the boy a smile and held out his hand. “I’m Namikaze Nowaki. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

"Friends? W-what? Why?... I-I attacked you..." Daichi whispered, eyes flickering down shamefully.

"You said sorry and that you won't do it again," Nowaki pointed out matter-of-factly. "And you said you're a real man who'll keep his word. Sounds like you're a good guy."

Daichi looked at him, mouth agape, eyes enlarged as he stared at Nowaki's outreached hand in disbelief. There was a pause before he finally clasped Nowaki's hand in his.

“Shinra Daichi,” the boy finally offered in return, a flush of red on his cheeks. “Pleased to meet you too.”


	4. hold my hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nowaki meets the gutsy ninja

 

It wouldn’t be the end of the world if Jiraiya knew. It just seemed to be more trouble than it was worth at the moment. Nowaki didn't know if he could be trusted. And worse, he seemed like the nosy type. So looking at the shelf of all of Yukio Mishima’s work, Nowaki struggled valiantly to keep a straight face. No bursting into tears of joy, he told himself.

“Anything your dad is looking for in particular?” Jiraiya asked.

“No. He said anything is good,” Nowaki deflected, still in awe. “But you don’t mind if I look through them first, do you?”

“Help yourself.”

Jiraiya watched Nowaki pull out all the books and begin categorizing them into different stacks. First Shinobi War. Second Shinobi War. Investigative pieces. Critical essays. Yep, the boy was definitely familiar with Yukio-san's works.

“Jiraiya-san. Have you read all these books?”

“Mm. Most of them. Not the newest one.”

“Oh… how did you hear about Yukio-san?”

“He’s a good friend of mine. Same publisher.”

Nowaki’s head whipped towards him. “What?! You know Yukio-san personally?” The boy was in front of him before he knew it.

“Ah, that was a joke.” Jiraiya grinned, watching the boy deflate, his enthusiasm being replaced by a flush of embarrassment. “Besides Yukio Mishima is a pen name. Who the actual author is is a secret.”

“A secret?”

“His books don’t exactly make him a friend of the hidden villages. I’m surprised the public library even had them. I thought they’d be on the banned books list.”

“Oh… I see.”

“I have heard one theory about him though.” Jiraiya said, trying to cheer up the boy. “Some say he is or at least used to be a shinobi.”

“A shinobi?”

“Mhmm. And a powerful one. Think about it. It explains his access to other high-level shinobi. And how else could he visit and document the frontlines safely?”

Yukio Mishima was a shinobi? That did make a lot of sense. It would explain how he knew the ins-and-outs of the hidden village system and how he’d have access to classified information.

Jiraiya watched Nowaki ponder, deep in thought. Minato’s brother really was a cute kid. As cute as Minato had been though they didn’t look too alike. Where Minato was firm, Nowaki was slender.  Where Minato’s hair was blond and shaggy like Jiraiya’s, Nowaki’s was black and fell in straight locks. If Jiraiya squinted at the kid from a distance, he’d probably mistake Nowaki for a girl.

“Wait… you said publisher. Are you a writer too, Jiraiya-san?” Nowaki suddenly asked him. “What kind of books do you write?”

There was a pause. “... don’t tell me you write erotica…”

“No?!” Jiraiya shouted, horrified at a five year old boy saying the world ‘erotica’. “What kind of person do you think I am? What has Minato been saying about me?”

Though maybe he should look into starting a series of romance books, Jiraiya thought. It was his area of expertise. And he’d love to do some research on the topic, _if you know what I mean_ , he couldn’t help but think.

Nowaki stared at Minato’s sensei, who was still deep in thought and whose face was getting redder and more sleazy by the minute. The pervert was no doubt thinking of something inappropriate.

“So… what do you write then?”

Jiraiya looked back at the kid and grinned.

“Here. Let me show you.” From a shelf, he pulled out a book.

“You can have it, if you want. I have too many copies.” Jiraiya said, looking at a shelf stock full of this particular book. “It… uh, it didn’t sell so well.”

Nowaki looked down at the book. _Tales of a Gutsy Ninja._ It didn't look that impressive.

“Hm… maybe I’ll try it one day.”

***

One day ended up being that night, with Nowaki finishing it in one go and sobbing through the last two chapters. For the next two days, all he could think about was Naruto.

“You know, Onii-san. Jiraiya sensei is pretty cool.” He said suddenly while walking back from the store with his brother.

“Hmm?” Minato frowned. “I agree, but why are you suddenly bringing Jiraiya-sensei up?”

Nowaki shrugged, looking up at the sky.

“Just because.”

Since the accident in the Academy, since stumbling upon Yukio-san’s books, and since those new, unexplainable memories, Nowaki had been thinking more and more about the bloodshed between shinobi in this world. He wanted to help end it. And after reading Jiraiya’s book, Nowaki could tell Minato’s sensei felt the same.

Jiraiya _understood_. He understood Yukio-san, and Nowaki thought Jiraiya might also understand him even though Nowaki didn’t even understand himself yet. The Konoha jonin wanted peace for not just the Land of Fire but for all countries, and he had personally realized that conflict between shinobi of different villages only perpetuated a never-ending cycle of violence.

It was paralyzing to suddenly meet someone else who felt this way. Jiraiya was different from Yukio-san. He was flesh and blood to Nowaki. He could be touched and talked to. Nowaki could ask him questions, could pick his brain and share his own thoughts. If only he wasn’t a five-year-old.

***

_Two weeks later_

“Jiraiya-san. I’m a genius.”

“Eh?” The jonin choked on his ramen.

“I’m a genius. I’m the one reading Yukio Mishima’s books, and I just finished your book as well. Please don’t be surprised.”

“I’m not surprised, you brat.” Jiraiya said, taking a swig of his water.

“You aren’t?”

“I don’t know if you’ve met your father, but Akihiro isn’t really a reader. Neither is your mom. No offense, but I’m not really sure where you and Minato get your smarts. And if it wasn't your brother, who's also a prodigy by the way, reading those books, it must be you,” He said. “So, no, I’m not surprised that you’re some sort of genius as well. I’m just surprised you up and told me with how you were trying to hide it earlier.”

“I see.”

Jiraiya leaned back, arms crossing as he looked at the laughing boy. “Well… go on. I want to know why you suddenly changed your mind.”

Nowaki straightened up, eyes serious. “Jiraiya-san. I read your book, and I want to help.’’

“Help?”

“Help Naruto find the answer. Help stop the war and bloodshed. We have peace right now, but when will the Third Shinobi World War break out? I want... I need to do something about it. So please, Jiraiya-san….”

“...please be my sensei.”

“What?”


	5. why we can't sleep at night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a history lesson of sorts

“Hmph. You think it’s so easy to become the pupil of a Legendary Sannin? I’ll have you know I only accept the best. It isn’t so easy as just asking, you know? I'm not going to say yes just because I’m your brother’s sensei.”

Nowaki had come prepared. Asking Jiraiya for help had been a carefully thought-out decision, one made only after two weeks of observation and several lengthy debates with himself. And thus, he had already arranged the perfect bribe, guaranteed to get Jiraiya to accept. Out of his pocket, Nowaki fished out a slip of paper and slid it towards Jiraiya.

“Hmm? What’s this? You think you can persuade a Sannin so easily?” Jiraiya bent down to read the sticky note. “11:00 am. The springs behind the Ninth Training Grounds.”

“My mother is the President of the Konoha Women’s Association. They’re having a BBQ a week from now, and apparently, some of the younger girls have decided to meet early to cool off by the springs,” Nowaki said. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you Jiraiya-san what young, college girls get up to at waterfalls. And with the summer weather being so hot recently, maybe some of them will even go skinnydi—”

Before Nowaki had even finished the sentence, Jiraiya had snapped the paper off the table.

“What a good pupil, Nowaki! Treating your sensei so well,” Jiraiya laughed heartily, one hand slapping the back of Nowaki in a jolly fashion.

“Ow, sensei. That hurts.”

“So it looks like we definitely need to work on your taijutsu,” the jonin boomed. “And we need to first re-enroll you in the academy.”

“—I don’t want to be a shinobi,” Nowaki interrupted. “At least not right now.”

“Hmm? Not a shinobi? ” Jiraiya crooked his head. “Then what do you want me as your sensei for?”

“Well, I said want to work towards peace, and I thought you could teach me… about the shinobi world and how to achieve that peace,” Nowaki said. “And we could discuss things, you know. Talk and share ideas.”

Jiraiya raised one eyebrow. “If you read my book, you’d know that I don’t have the answer.”

“I did and that’s why I said we could discuss things. How do you expect to find the answer by yourself?” Nowaki said, frustrated.

The man leaned back, face contemplative. “Why do you want this peace so badly? Genius or not, you’re just a kid. What do you know about war?” He said, looking down at Nowaki.

Nowaki didn’t reply. He didn’t know how. He couldn’t explain how his heart clenched painfully every time he thought of war, and how clearly he could imagine its tragedies: fields littered with the corpses of children, bodies bleeding red into streams, towns torn apart by shinobi. He knew to everyone else, he looked like a five year old boy, but Nowaki didn’t feel like a kid.

Something must’ve shown on his face, because Jiraiya then muttered quietly, “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

Nowaki looked up at him, eyes sad and older than a five year old’s should be.

“Fine. I’ll give you some of my time,” Jiraiya said. “This Friday. 7 p.m. Meet me at the Ninth Training Grounds.”

***

“Fourteen… Fifteen...” Nowaki collapsed.

“Wow, you’re a weak little squirt are you.”

“Okay,” Nowaki panted, ignoring the insult. “You promised. One question for fifteen pushups.”

“Shoot.” Jiraiya said, peering back into his telescope. Nowaki rolled his eyes. Of course Jiraiya had picked the Ninth Training Grounds just so he could scope out the terrain before the girls arrived this weekend.

“How much power does the Hokage have? You know, compared to the daimyo?” He asked.

Jiraiya glanced at him. “That's your question?”

Nowaki picked at the blades of grass in front of him. “Well, I don’t understand how military decisions are made. According to the Academy’s textbooks, in the last shinobi war, the Land of Wind and the Land of Earth were trying to annex territory for more resource-rich land. Suna was led by the Kazekage, and Iwa by the Tsuchikage, but the decision to expand was originally issued by the daimyo of those countries. That was why the war started. Yet, it was the Kage who negotiated and finalized the peace treaties. But why? Who’s in control? Who makes the decisions? The hidden village or the government?”

Jiraiya frowned and placed his telescope to the side. “The relationship between a shinobi village and its country has always been complicated. You know Konoha was the first ever shinobi village, right? It was created through a pact between the Land of Fire and the allied Senju and Uchiha.

Nowaki nodded, following along.

“Once the hidden village system was established, countries quickly expanded and became richer. Shinobi villages were a source of money and stability for countries,” Jiraiya explained. “The shinobi village’s loyalty to the current daimyo ensures he isn’t overthrown by smaller lords. And at the same time, strong shinobi villages, like Konoha, are a valuable source of revenue. They can earn enough to cover their own operating costs and be profitable for the state.”

“Therefore, a shinobi village with enough revenue is economically self-sufficient,” Jiraiya continued. “And given that the major shinobi villages like Konoha have their own politics and governing structures—”

“We end up becoming a semi-autonomous self-ruling organization despite being technically under the thumb of the feudal lord,” Nowaki interrupted.

“Exactly, which makes things complicated. While the daimyo officially occupies the highest position as the head of state, the Kage is the leader of the country’s military forces. The Kage is who the shinobi are most loyal to. A strong Kage could overthrow the feudal lord if he wished,” Jiraiya said. “Therefore, even though the daimyo can hand down orders to the Kage, it can only push a shinobi village against its wishes so far.”

“Then, in the case of the Second Shinobi War, when the Tsuchikage…”

“Mhmm... ” Jiraiya nodded. “When it had become clear that Iwa would be defeated, the Tsuchikage took action to negotiate a treaty with Konoha, even though the Land of Earth’s daimyo wanted to continue.”

Nowaki frowned. “Then, what if the Kages refuse to go to war? The feudal lords wouldn’t be able to force them if they didn’t want to lose their army.”

Jiraiya sighed. “It isn’t always the daimyo initiating the war, Nowaki. Shinobi villages have motivations as well. Maybe politics within or between villages. Maybe money. Maybe they need to boost the number of missions and thus the income they're receiving. In small countries where the head of state is the Kage, the goal of war can be to gain territory and increase their stronghold.”

“And don’t forget Nowaki.” Jiraiya said, voice suddenly softer than before. Nowaki watched him as the jonin peered up at the sky, his eyes slightly glassy. “In this world, shinobi are considered to be tools for war. We earn money by being weapons. And we earn the most by being the best. And so as long as shinobi exist in one country, shinobi will exist in the rest, Nowaki.”

Nowaki paused to take in the implication of Jiraiya's words. If one country was armed, all others would arm themselves too. And once there was violence, there would be continue to be violence. The hatred that a war gave birth to lasted long after the war itself. But something else about what Jiraiya had said bothered him. _We earn money by being weapons_ , Jiraiya had whispered, almost in a shameful way.

“Sensei...”

“Hmm?”

“... Did Konoha and the Land of Fire help start the Second Shinobi War?” Nowaki said. “While lords in Wind and Earth country both wanted to increase their territory, Yukio-san also says the Land of Fire and Konoha had grown too much and needed more funding to support itself. War between feudal clans meant missions, and missions meant profit, so in his book, he says Konoha ordered shinobi to infiltrate feudal clans along the border and—”

Jiraiya suddenly stood up, interrupting Nowaki mid-sentence. “You earned one question, Nowaki. You’ll have to pay for another.”

Nowaki rolled his eyes. “Fine. Fifteen pushups, right?” He rolled back onto his stomach and got into position.

“Actually, push-ups are kind of boring. Let’s make things a bit harder. Walk on water for two minutes, and you get another next question.”

“Walk on water? With chakra?” Nowaki asked.

“Of course. How else are you going to do it?” Jiraiya flippantly answered, going back to observing the waterfalls through his telescope.

“I said I’m not interested in shinobi training,” Nowaki complained. “And I’m not even enrolled in the Academy. How am I supposed to know how to walk on water with chakra?”

“Think of it as proper payment for a sannin’s wisdom. And you’re a genius, aren’t you? Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Nowaki said nothing. Going from fifteen pushups to walking on water was a nearly exponential jump in difficulty. And not to mention he was a five-year-old. A five year old who wasn’t even in the Academy yet. It was impossible.

He jolted. _Impossible_. It _was_ an impossible task. Jiraiya had purposely given him an impossible challenge.

But why would he do that? Nowaki thought furiously. Fifteen pushups was a hassle, but walking on water was like Jiraiya wanted him to fail—. He stiffened as his memory suddenly replayed what he had asked in the first place.

_Did Konoha start the war?_

And Jiraiya didn’t want to answer.


End file.
